What the Fuck?
Copyright© 2013 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 21
"David?"
"Keirstann?"
"I wanna go home."
"Me too," agreed Britt.
"Talk to the kidnapper," I said.
"He's dead, You stepped on him," said Stevie. "Girls ... you can never go home ... you're dead ... as dead as the spider. Your mangled bodies drifted ashore along with the wreckage after the storm."
"You fixed the airplane driver and his minion ... can't you fix us?"
It was snowing like mad but I had the cash counted, bagged and the spluge in the booths mopped. I was preparing to leave when a timid knocking was faintly heard on the smoked glass of the front door.
"Who is it? ... We're closed." It wasn't Billy, he had keys and he'd never knock.
"Mister?" A female voice.
'Young, ' I thought.
"Sir?"
A second voice ... also female ... also young.
"What?" I asked in my very best snarl.
"We want to buy a movie. We heard something at the bar and don't know what it is." Spoken like twins.
"We're closed. Come back in the morning," I said in a slightly less belligerent voice.
Money was slid under the crack at the bottom of the door. "We want a movie about Manage a tro."
You have no idea how long it took me to decipher the words to understand they meant Ménage à trois.